


#6: When entrusted with a secret, keep it

by Knitwritezombie (Missa_G)



Series: 100 Rules for Adults (That Clint Barton Never Learned) [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Minor Injuries, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, drugs used for medical treatment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 12:44:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2388698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missa_G/pseuds/Knitwritezombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint doesn't have a great relationship with morphine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#6: When entrusted with a secret, keep it

Clint Barton had a problem with morphine.

No, not like that.

More like, when he was on it, his brain to mouth filter went completely offline. He’d talk to anyone about anything while on that particular narcotic. It had gotten to the point that Phil had put a note in his medical file that if Clint was on morphine, he was to be left alone, and was only permitted Natasha, or a level 7 or above agent to sit with him.

So, it wasn’t a surprise to find Phil at his bedside when he woke up in medical, an IV in his arm and, yup, that was a catheter. 

“Hi, Phil,” Clint said.

“Hello, yourself,” Phil answered, a smile crinkling his eyes, but not showing otherwise. He held up a cup with a straw while Clint drank. “Okay?”

“Hm,” Clint hummed, relaxing. “That’s a weird word. Wonder where it came from. Oh-kay,” he drawled. “Okay. Okie dokie. Old Macdonald –“

“Clint,” Phil said patiently, and Clint turned to look at him. 

“Hi, Phil,” Clint said cheerfully.

“Hi, Clint,” Phil said. “How do you feel?”

“Kind of floaty,” Clint said. “They gave me morphine, didn’t they?”

“Yes. Do you want me to go?” Phil asked.

Clint made a face. “No.” He didn’t like the verbal stream of consciousness that the drug seemed to cause, revealing his somewhat jumbled thought process. What was worse, though, was that he was all there, just without a filter in place. It wasn’t like he was drunk or otherwise compromised; he tended to remember everything, which is why Natasha and Phil were pretty good about leaving when he asked them to, unless he needed supervision (the medics tended to have lower clearance levels). 

That, and he was always worried about saying something he would regret later. Like how much he appreciated that Phil actually seemed to care about his well-being, unlike Clint’s earlier handlers. Clint was a private person by nature, and having grown up in a communal environment had learned to hoard his privacy. There were things he never meant to reveal, and Phil and Tasha both were good at keeping those secrets on top of their own.

But he didn’t really want to be alone at the moment. “Where’s Tasha?” he asked. She already knew about his attraction to Phil; she was safe.

“Getting some sleep,” Phil answered. “We stayed in shifts since they weren’t sure when you’d wake up.”

Clint hummed. “Fury around?”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but he’s making noise about going dark for the next couple of days, leaving me and Maria in charge.”

“So, no Nat then,” Clint murmured.

“Hm?” Phil looked interested. 

“Tasha and-“

“Clint Barton, don’t you dare finish that thought,” Natasha said as she stepped into the room.

“I-“

“You think I didn’t already know?” Phil asked, looking amused. “Nick’s probably my oldest friend, Natasha.”

“This is why I hate morphine,” Clint grumbled. “Sorry, Tasha.”

Natasha sighed, but shook her head fondly. She crossed the room and perched on the edge of Clint’s bed. “No harm done. But since the cat’s out of the bag, sir, are you going to be able to sit with Clint for a couple days?”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Clint grumbled, and Natasha patted his hand. 

“Someone has to sit with you when the medics come in while you’re medicated,” Natasha reminded him. 

“There’s only one op currently running,” Phil said. “Maria and I will hold down the fort. They’ll probably pull him off the meds tomorrow and he can go home,” he finished, nodding at Clint.

“Really don’t need you to talk about me like I’m not here,” Clint pouted, then made a face as he processed what he’d said. 

Phil not smiled again and rose. “Can you stay for a few minutes while I make some calls?” he asked Natasha.

“Sure,” she said, picking up Clint’s hand as Phil stepped out. “You could talk to him, y’know,” she said after door closed behind Phil.

Clint shrugged one shoulder. “Better to keep it to myself than risk getting heartbroken or reassigned,” he said. “You know this is the best team I’ve ever been on. I mean, I could probably work long term with Jasper or Blake, and maybe even Hand, but they don’t like me, not like Phil does. And Phil’s good for you, too,” he said, curling their fingers together. “No. This is good,” he decided with a nod. “This is okay.” He forced himself to stop talking.

Natasha sighed. “I’m not going to force it,” she promised. “But you may find he’s more receptive than you think.”

Clint hummed noncommittally and then promptly changed the subject. “Where’s Nick taking you?” He was beginning to feel sleep tug him back down. Pain was starting to creep in at the edges, too.

“Not sure I should tell you,” Natasha teased with a grin. “Upstate. One of his safe houses,” she finally said, looking about as coy as she naturally would. Clint rather thought she looked shyly pleased about being spirited away for a romantic weekend.

“Good. You two deserve some time to be together. And time off. We’ve been working hard,” he said. His eyelids were getting heavy and he blinked to keep them open.

“Yes, we have been,” she agreed. “Get some rest,” she said, sliding off the edge of the bed to take up residence in the chair Phil had claimed as his own. 

“Natasha,” Clint said, letting his eyes slip closed as he heard the door creak open. “Don’t let me do anything stupid, okay? I don’t want to fuck things up for you.”

“Maybe for once,” she said, under the sound of approaching footsteps, “you should think about being a little less selfless. You deserve to be happy, too.”

“Mhappy,” he murmured. “Got you, Phil, a roof o’er my head. S’good.” He sighed as he shifted slightly in the bed. 

“Yeah,” he heard, thinking he felt callused fingers run through his hair. “Remind me to ask you about that again sometime you’re not compromised by drugs.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have an alternate version of this rule. I'm saving it for a bonus later on.


End file.
